The Military And The Mommy

I'm watching a movie called The Shunning on Netflix. It's about a girl raised in an Amish household and community who finds out that she was adopted.
As I watched this, I happened to be cutting pictures out of October's issue of Vogue and stumbled across an article about a couple who pursued domestic adoption. The woman writing it explained the very difficult path they had walked after finding out about their infertility and the choices they made, the profile they filled out which listed the races, ages and conditions they would accept... No drug or alcohol use, any races, newborns.... And, despite the fact that I knew this woman was so much like me, a mother at heart, someone who could not bear children, to all appearances at least reasonably stable and responsible financially, I found myself so angry at this woman.... So angry. It's not her fault she didn't spend time in the foster care system, it's not her fault she didn't grow up knowing anyone with Downs syndrome, or in a wheel chair.... These things aren't her fault, and, really, her life is better for the lack of those struggles. Yet, to a woman who's been there, but doesn't have the financial ability to pay for adoption, turning a child away.... even a child with Downs syndrome... a child who struggles to live is the strongest of children, and children with Downs... there are no happier people on this planet than those who live with this syndrome. The love of a child, taking a child home and knowing that this child will not face the wrath of foster homes, or the misery of abuse at the hands of their parents, what more can you really want? Your child will love you whether or not you struggle for money, whether or not you're bloated, tired, cranky,if you have zits or a perfect complexion, whether you're a dog person, a cat person or don't particularly care for animals at all.... They won't judge you for the things potential dates might judge you on, or employers--- well, at least not until they hit their teens.
I am looking forward to becoming a foster mother. I know too well that it will be challenging, but I also know that, no matter what challenges I face in this experience, the children who aren't wanted, aren't loved or simply can't be taken care of by their biological families are those who are most in need of a home, of love, and of anything else I can give them.
So, as I transition, all-too-slowly, out of the US Army, I know that this path is the right one for me. The path of loving children who, like I have, believe themselves to be unlovable, or who's families cannot care for them, or who have already survived the unsurvivable... that's where I will come in.

To My Daughter

My Angel,

               Tomorrow would be your eleventh birthday. How do I say goodbye to a daughter who's face I've only seen in my dreams? I will never forget the changes you brought to me, and to my life. 

               Yes, you know you were a product of rape- but you were my child, my daughter, from the moment of your conception. That boy can never lay claim to the child that I carried in my body, however briefly. You were the only positive thing to come from the forced loss of my virginity, and, even though my fourteen-year-old body couldn't carry you to full term, you WERE a positive thing. So many years later, I still have been unable to let go of the loss I felt the day I miscarried you. I was young, and still a current victim of abuse at my mother's hands. You were the first part of my life I could call my own. When my body wasn't even my own, you were, and nobody has ever been able to take that from me. 

               I still don't talk to too many people about you, but you know that, don't you? It's hard for most people to understand the attachment I still hold to you. I would do anything to be planning my daughter's eleventh birthday right now, rather than questioning how I'll make it through the day tomorrow. I would have done anything to protect you, and I tried. I didn't press charges because I was more concerned with my daughter's future than our past. 

               I don't know how I would have kept both of us alive, had I given birth to you at only fifteen. All I know is that I would have done anything to manage it. I don't know what you would like, or what kind of things you would be interested in now. I just wish I did. I love you and miss you. 

                 Your Mama

The Feminine Tomboy

I was reading Jeanette's post on her feelings about tarot cards, and, while tarot is interesting to me (I have family from Old Salem, it's hard to avoid), the tarot discussion wasn't what caught my attention. It was this quote: "Maybe it's because of the way I was brought up, with my mother always speaking so warmly about feminine intuition, or maybe it's just me. I don't know."
It's no secret that I come from an abusive home, but the thought of a mother raising her child to trust her own intuition was such a powerful idea to me! I've had a lot of ideas, thoughts and plans on raising children when we finally have the money for in-vitro fertilization, but there was something so obvious about the idea of raising your child to trust themselves and I couldn't believe it had never occurred to me.
Then I realized something else- isn't that the ideal outcome of parenting? Isn't the ultimate idea behind raising a child into adulthood raising someone who is trustworthy and dependable, even to the extent that they trust themselves?